Eighteen Justice
EIGHTEEN
Justice
Bringing Ella into the Malice Media hub tightens every muscle in my body. I don’t like having her here. She’s too dangerous.
I fed her an early lunch, so at least she’s in a good mood. The woman has a penchant for cookie-dough milkshakes.
The elevator doors slide open, and we step into the quiet hum of the floor. Cold air breathes out from the vents and smells like metal and lemon cleaner. Screens glow along the far wall, code racing in columns that reflect off the polished concrete.
Kaz looks up from his work and stills. He’s got both hands going on different keyboards, fingers moving so fast it looks like he’s playing two pianos.
He doesn’t need to look down. Thirty and all lean focus, dark blond hair that never quite cooperates, green eyes that miss nothing.
His chin juts like it wants an argument, with a stubborn dimple dead center.
I noticed it when we were kids and it still reads like Cary Grant, whether he likes it or not.
Yeah. It’s rare for me to bring anybody in here, much less a woman in my T-shirt, jeans, and dirty tennis shoes.
“Hi.” He stands and comes toward her, hand out, clear interest on his face. “You’re Ella Rendale.”
“I am.” She takes his hand, smiling, and the room brightens like somebody bumped the dimmer.
Kaz grins back and shifts his feet on Italian loafers. “I’m Kazstone, but everyone calls me Kaz. I wish I had nicer clothes to offer you.” His gaze lifts to me with his eyebrows arching in a clear question.
I don’t answer, as this is none of his business.
The walls show faint scuffs where a fight got too close. Cleaned. Sterile again. Of course Kaz handled it. He gets twitchy if a cable isn’t coiled right, and having part of the building crumble after a missile attack probably kept him up all night.
“Ms. Rendale, what can I do for you?” His tone sounds friendly. Too friendly.
I answer before she can. “I’m taking her into the main server room.”
He draws back a fraction. Shock flickers across his face. “You’re … you want to take her where?”
“It’s a long story, and it’s none of your business,” I say.
“Fine.” He snaps the reply off and turns back to his screens. His fingers fly harder, like he can out-type his temper.
Heat bites along my clavicle, and a bruise blooms up fast. I wince.
Ella tracks the movement and then looks away without comment.
Her hair has dried into curls I didn’t expect, brushing her shoulders.
She used to wear it shorter, cut to flare out.
I like the longer length. It gives me something to hold onto.
The thought hits hard and I shake it off. I need to get my head on straight.
“Come on.” I take her hand. Her fingers are cool. I lead her to the blank wall and press my free palm to the sensor. The plate warms, reads me, and the seam opens with a soft hiss. I’m rather disappointed the missile attack to my penthouse destroyed the citrine I purchased for her.
Cold air spills from the server room and smells like dust and ozone. Rows of towers blink in patient lines, status lights pulsing like a heartbeat.
Ella steps in and draws a sharp breath. Her excitement vibrates through her and into me, clean and bright. The hum around us seems as calming to her as it is to me, and that pleases me.
Fascinating.
“Oh, this is awesome,” she breathes.
“Yeah. It is.” I follow her inside as the door snicks closed behind me, sealing us into the server room. The air is tinged with the sharp scent of heated metal, carrying the steady vibration of power. The hum isn’t loud, but it’s constant, a low thrum that works its way under my skin.
Ella moves forward, steps quiet, almost reverent, her gaze locked on the garnet in the center of the room.
The gem sits on a black pedestal, bathed in a narrow shaft of white light that fractures into crimson sparks across the polished floor.
The stone itself is huge, flawless, the deep red facets alive as if fire is trapped inside.
“What a beauty,” she whispers, and pride tightens my chest. It shouldn’t matter. But this garnet feels like mine.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Her attention slides past the stone to the cupboards lining the far wall. “Backup garnets?”
“Yeah, and some small alexandrite. I’m trying to get my hands on bigger ones.”
She nods, eyes narrowing in thought. “I’ve read the data. I haven’t tested them much myself, but from what I can tell, they accelerate the processes of the current gems. More like fuel than competition.”
Clinical words, sure, but the way she glances over her shoulder ruins it. She’s too damn distracting in my T-shirt, wearing too-large jeans, curls wild around her shoulders.
She circles the garnet slowly, fingertips trailing through the air near it, eyes fixed on the pulsing glow. “This one’s perfectly healthy,” she says at last. “Have you exchanged energy with her?”
“Several times.”
“And it hasn’t helped you?”
Wouldn’t that be ideal? “No.”
She presses a finger against her mouth, thoughtful.
“I’m not sure what to do. Your condition hasn’t killed you yet, but it could.
Especially if the wrong people realize how to exploit it.
” Her gaze lifts, blue eyes bright and sharp, pinning me.
“What would happen if too many jerks attacked at once? If they hit you with their voices together?”
The question slices too close. I’ve worried about damage to my internal organs—my heart or even my brain. My jaw tightens. “I don’t want to think about it. Only you know about my condition. I don’t want Thorn to know.”
“That puts a bull’s-eye on me.”
“It does.” I step closer, the garnet’s glow brushing heat along my arm. “So keep that fact to yourself.”
She rolls her eyes at me, like I’m overbearing. Her lips curve, faint but there.
Not afraid. Not of me.
That’s not good.
She glances at a clock mounted high on the far wall, just beyond the rows of blinking server lights. Her brows pull together. “We can’t leave Leo in the car too long.”
Of course. She’s attached to that dog. “I know.” I study her, waiting. “Any thoughts here?”
She shakes her head, curls shifting around her shoulders.
“No, but I promise I’ll start digging. Quietly.
Under the radar. I need to research your condition more, even if there’s nothing written about it.
Sometimes the key is in the underlying problem, not the name of the ailment.
I also want to recheck everything we did for Thorn.
Something in that process should have helped you too. ”
“Yeah, but we were focused on Thorn,” I say, jaw tightening. “I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I know.” Her voice softens, and the weight in it punches straight through my chest while my cock hardens.
That sweet, soft sound might kill me. “I know it’s my fault.
But I will help you.” Then she tries to negotiate.
“But since your apartment was blown up, maybe we meet in a couple of days? Somewhere neutral?”
A low chuckle escapes me before I can catch it. When was the last time I laughed? Genuine amusement slides through me, hot and unfamiliar. “You’re fucking adorable.”
Her head snaps up, eyes flashing. She doesn’t preen. She knows exactly what I mean.
I guess I need to be more direct. “No.”
“Justice, come on—”
“Nope. If you think I’m letting you out of my control, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
She looks like she might stomp her foot, and hell, it’s cute. Too cute. “Listen, buddy—”
“Nope.” I cut her off again, slow and deliberate. “Don’t argue with me, Ella. You won’t win.”
Her glare could scorch a weaker man. “Fine. Then where exactly do you plan on putting me and my dog?”
“You’ll see.” I reach for her hand again.
She narrows her eyes, suspicion etched across her face. “I guess I’m not being clear. It’s time to make a deal. I’ll save you, and you let me go. Full stop.”
“No.” I’m done. I yank my shirt up over her head before she can move.
She hisses, hands on her hips, gorgeous tits tightening in the cold.
Fuck, I like that she doesn’t cover herself and looks like a sex kitten.
Instead, she slides one leg back and barely drops into a fighting stance. If I wasn’t watching her so closely, I would’ve missed it.
Heat spirals down my spine and flicks my balls wide awake. My blood thickens and heats through my veins.
Her chin lifts, and challenge fills her blue eyes. Then she screams. At an ear-splitting decibel.
I frown, waiting until she stops. “You know this room is soundproof.”
Her face falls. “That didn’t hurt you? At all?”
The little brat. She tried to shred my skin with her voice? As an experiment, it isn’t bad. Mean, though. “No. Guess you can’t extort me that way,” I murmur. Fascinating. The screech had just annoyed me. No pain involved. Why just with her?
Her mouth quirks. “Darn it.” She’s disappointed?
I’m caught between being pissed and amused. “Don’t try it again.”
Her eyes light. Wait a minute. Does she think she hurt me? She opens her mouth and shrieks at an even louder and higher tone.
My ears protest like any human’s would. So I dodge forward, lift her up, and plant her over my knee. She struggles, and I lift my leg to the round base of the pedestal, giving me better leverage. Then I smack her ass.
Hard.
She yelps and squirms like a fish on the line.
The clothes are in the way. I tear them off and then smack her several more times. Her ass turns red, and my handprint looks perfect there. Absolutely fucking perfect.
She lets loose with an impressive list of threats and curses, so I start spanking her in time with her words. Finally, she stops with a soft whimper.
I smack her three more times. “Are you done being a brat?”
“I fucking hate you,” she breathes out, face down, her blonde hair brushing the floor.
“Guess not,” I muse, swinging again. Her butt is beetred, and I can smell her arousal. I’m hard, but this is a lesson that needs to be learned. And acknowledged. I give her five more, noting how hard she’s panting. “You done, baby?”